No One Noticed My Absence
by Escaping Propriety
Summary: I saw him standing there and I didn't know what to do. His face and his eyes were not supposed to hold that same look. The matching fascination that I swore I would never share again. He shouldn't love me because I cannot love him but somehow I do. Queen/Genie. Reg/Sydney. Maybe M for future chapters.
1. A Visit in Prison

A Visit in Prison

The nature of a prison surpasses walls. It is not the boundaries of propriety and societies' ever changing whims. It certainly is not within the coldness of the wedding bed that Leopold never ventures into. Something that I have always been internally grateful for; the very idea unnerves me in ways that may become my undoing. As much as all of these restrictions shout at me in silent mockery with their ever surrounding presence, I am not imprisoned by any.

Only by the gaping hole that hollows itself more through each passing day. Another moment kept from Daniel, from happiness, from freedom. That is the greatest prison. Myself.

I stroll through the royal gardens and count the seasons by the leaves. Their spring buds and autumn colors are my counters. My marks on my prison wall, so to speak. At times, I laugh openly like the madwoman that I suspect is my new person. Hands free and opened, trying to keep balance. The ivory skin of a queen, shining and bright with the insanity of a witch. The king and his precious daughter find me at these moments to be quite amusing. They only smile amongst each other and pass me off as having a pleasant day.

If only they knew how the steady laughter turns into a tearful fury. The memories of the life that I might have had are my sole comfort; while my pleasures are the dreams of this kingdom's misfortune. Leopold's death with the downfall of his daughter's "fairness."

It is sweeter than the sickliest saccharine experience that life could offer. One that I wait for with the utmost patience. I have to remind myself that every day is part of the price that I pay to reap my final reward of independence and power. Just like today.

And what a day, it has been. I dressed to please no one in particular; as it is that no one notices my presence. A pale pink gown with a snow mink cap. Lovely and elegant but no one's eyes will dare to admire it. I am the king's wife, the forbidden "virgin" queen. That is courtiers' whispering when they think that Leopold has left the room and I am adequately distracted. The king's virility, or lack of, is a common joke. Admittedly though the man has never touched me.

Maybe there is a little truth behind every rumor. The lovely warm sun lightens the day for me and attempts to break the ice around my heart. If I could destroy the sun for a mere moment with Daniel, I know that I would do it without hesitation.

"And this is my wife, Regina."

The apple I plucked stands blood red in my gloved palm. I can hardly remember how it feels to have the skin of something living against my own. Always gloved, always covered, and always separated. Unless, I'm being introduced for Leopold's pleasure as his property.

Finally, I break away to face whoever Leopold is trying to impress, and I am stopped. It is a man, like I have never seen. It is not the wrapped cloth around his head or the bright state of his attire. I almost overlook the distinct earthly hue of his flesh. His kohl traced stare is what holds the greatest amount of my attention. He looks at me with something that I find peculiar. I have known the stares of desire and the bold glances of wantonness. Anger. Now, that is a trait that is unforgettable in any interaction but this is completely different.

I try to smile. I try to speak. Practice the court manners that my accursed mother taught but I find that I can only manage small actions. My lips are the only ones with the courage to move and so they do.

"Hello."

He doesn't even speak. I swallow nervously, against the autumn day and its beckoning of winter. The arches even seem to be calling out for more words to be said but it isn't happening. Instead, the handsome stranger gives a slight bow. He is respectful; a gentleman if allowed to be judged. I don't wait for him to say anything more because a strange sensation is frightening me. An old feeling that I thought had died with Daniel.

Butterflies trapped in my stomach.

I move past the awkwardness and the heightened beating of blood rushing in my ears. I decide that another stroll around the garden is necessary and make my way away from the king's guest. I turn away at a polite speed and go on my way.

I can hear my husband's voice fade away but never the other man's. Leopold continues his rants about the kingdom and its abilities. His daughter. The neighboring allies and enemies. It is still the same boring drabble that I have endured for the past years. I feel some pity for our visitor.

Through the western arch, I see them make their way to the castle. They walk slowly through the lower gardens and I finally catch wind of that man's voice. It is low and pleasing to the ear. He speaks as though he relishes every word that he says and makes it his own. As if he is sharing his very soul and nothing else; not like the chattiness of Leopold who never runs out of insignificant topics to discuss.

Then an echo of my name hits me from below. I glance down and see both men staring up at me. Leaning against the arch and staring down at them. I smile brightly and wave at Leopold as if he was whom I wished to gaze upon. The old man returns my gesture and then leads the dark visitor away with a hand on his shoulder. I don't turn away even though Snow is following after them.

Instead, I wait. My instincts tell me that I must wait. Something is to happen and I cannot depart from this spot. All of them are almost to the heavy timber doors of the courtyard. I shift the picked apple from hand to hand and toy with it until I understand why I had remained.

The stranger stops and for a moment, I feel a spark inside the depth of my heart. His eyes connect with mine and from so far, I know that he feels it too. I shyly bow my head and remain the proper wife to the king.

As expected, he copies my movement and moves away with king. His departure is so sudden of a loss that I am caught off-guard by its intensity. I take a seat under my treasured tree. Its blossoms are my only comfort and its fruit, my only nourishment of soul.

At least, they were. Until him, until he arrived, and stared at me as if I were the grace of gods. I sigh quietly and dig deep for the fury that I have carried since Daniel's death. It rises inside but it is only half of what I normally experience. My visions blurs from the tears that won't shed themselves and I find myself asking a question out loud.

"What is happening to me?"


	2. Consorts on Rainy Days

Consorts on Rainy Days

"Milady, I have your dressing gown."

Gnarled hands drape the thin cotton shift across my bed before pulling my covers off. I shiver slightly and would reprimand her but frankly, the woman is quite resourceful. Rude, at times, but I have held her to be nothing more than respectful where it matters. My own personal tormenter and maid held within a single being. Enid.

"I said that I have your dressing gown." Her raspy voice cuts into me and I immediately curl back up underneath the sheets. "If you are going to laze about on this fine day, at least have the decency to imitate some form of illness."

She doesn't know that I find her sharpness quite refreshing in the mornings. So few of my subjects treat me with any form of human recognition. I am their subject as much as their ruler. A pretty doll without a voice or a soul; much less with desires and wishes. Enid, however seems to know everything. She is the mother that I should have been given.

I adjust my pillow and roll onto my side. Gathering what remains of my voice after a night of nothing but quiet snoring. "What good would that do? Even on my deathbed, you wouldn't allow me to waste the day away."

"Of course not." I hear her picking up glasses of oils and creams. She sets one down and picks up the other. All of it is the daily sound of readying my morning bath and dressing. "The life of a queen is not meant to be spent locked away in a room. Even on a deathbed, you will rise up and do as you must."

"Such inspiring words."

The darkness of my chambers lights up and her worn features turn on me. Her sharpened hag's face with a fierce stare of emerald, which is the detail that caught my eye when I chose her. Enid is the widow of a blacksmith and the mother of one as well. My carriage had been caught through one of the tiny villages outside of our woods. The wheel had broken against a rock and her son had it repaired within no less than a single hour. I had suspected that his price would be a gold piece or two; as a woman, he would have assumed that I knew nothing of bargaining. Against my hopes, instead, he wanted me to take his mother into my services.

I had protested and scolded him for such insolence. I recall that he was a quiet-spoken man of large stature. Politely and humbly, he begged for my forgiveness; until Enid heard him from their meager cottage. The tiny thing rushed out with a temper that could have surpassed that of a charging lioness. After her son restrained and I had received my own lecture, I knew that to refuse such a woman into my employ would be a very foolish decision. I offered her the position of my personal handmaid and despite her own protests, she accepted.

Since that day, I enjoy a sort of kinship with at least one person in the kingdom. One person who does not solely view me as royalty. Many times, she has advised that I "follow my heart and not forget my head as well." Those are the times that I cherish her company the most.

Our routine is as set as the rising of the sun that creates the dawn. Following it, I rise up from my silk sheets with a yawn of conclusiveness. It is time to prepare for the day and there is no getting around it. My nightgown slips from my shoulders and a bathing cloth already waits at on the bed. My arms hug the cloth around me and Enid loosens my hair from the loose braids she created last night before my sleep. Then a comb is passed through all my tangles. No words or a complaint about the roughness of her actions because we have already had this discussion and Enid really doesn't care if it hurts.

An hour later, I have passed through the bath and been dried properly. The dressing gown warms me from the morning chill. I rub my arms and try to remain still for Enid as she selects a corset for the gown I chose. Thinking to myself about my dislike for corsets, I decide to suggest something. "Perhaps, a corset would be uncalled for today."

"A lady wears a corset." Her back to me, she continues rifling through one of the chests of lingerie, "Unless you are going to start a new style."

A memory of myself riding horse in pants makes me snort and her to turn around questioningly staring at me. "Is the idea so amusing?"

"I used to wear riding pants and ride," I whisper the rest as if it were pure conspiracy. "Without a saddle."

Enid shakes her head, her curly white hair springs from her cap and she walks back to me. "As did I but I was never a fine lady like yourself. Nevertheless, if you don't want to wear the corset then who will force you?"

"Or is it possible that someone doesn't want to tie the corset?" I try to remain serious but her frown only makes me giggle quietly. Without a response, she brings my gown to me. I pull up the plum colored material and silently revel in the feel of velvet. Through the windows, I see clouds forming in the sky and creating a world of gray. I suspected that this dress was the wiser choice.

"My queen."

A guard enters with someone trailing behind him. Two other guards and another- It's the visitor from days ago. I imagined that Leopold had set him up in the guests' rooms for his own entertainment. Yet, this is quite shocking. Forgetting that I am in my personal quarters, I nod to the guard to leave us. I stand in awe at his dressage today.

Black pants that lay above his ankle. The style of the cut balloons out from his legs and gives proportion to the width of shoulders. His flat stomach and strong chest show through the space of an embroidered vest. Rings align his fingers of gold and jewel. Even the fabric of his turban has changed.

I can only say this to myself and I do so in my head; even if it is my greatest wish to say it to him. He is handsome. He is beautiful. He is welcomed.

Bowing my head to him, I greet him as graciously as I can at this distance. "Good morning."

His hand flourishes from his forehead to me and I find it to be one of the most graceful gestures that I have ever seen. "Your majesty, good morning. Forgive me for my intrusion and for not awaiting an invitation."

"I need hardly to forgive you." A small chair is set next to my wardrobe and I glance at it. "Please sit. You are a guest and I should ask you to forgive me for not being more hospitable. You have been here for several days and I have not visited you as much as my husband as."

"Your husband, the king, has much interest in my homeland and has many questions. I have been very grateful to him and find his company most pleasant." His deep accent resonates within my chest as though he were holding me close; my head is losing control over my senses. "He is a kind man."

How I want to blurt the truth out to this stranger. I want to tell him what kind of man Leopold really is and that despite his kindness; he is a most self-serving man. He didn't marry for love or even lust; he married me for his daughter. So that his child could have a playmate; I might as well have been an object for purchase. He has made me to be without voice or feeling. I am trapped here and if this man isn't careful, Leopold will make him a prisoner as well.

But with Enid's hands traveling over my dress's backing, I can concentrate on maintaining the façade that everyone has come to know. "Yes, he is a most thoughtful man. I am very lucky to have married the king."

I say the words with the articulation of a royal and the thoughtlessness that is expected of women. The smile, oh, how I arch my lips higher and force my eyes to catch the light at the right angle. That is the best way to appear happy. Wide smile and shining eyes. No more than a stretch of the mouth and an angling of my eyes in the light. It is foolproof. The stranger doesn't reply to my comment, he sits quietly though in a muted contentedness.

How rare it is to find someone merely content to sit in my presence. Shyly, I turn to Enid when I can no longer stand his tiny musings of hidden grins and capturing glares. It may only be his eyes on me but I could swear that he possesses some magic. What else could cause me to imagine his gentle voice in my ear as his hands caress my back, my waist, and then-

"Milady, we must do you hair." Enid cuts off the heated path that my mind was traveling. "How would you like it to be styled?"

The stranger looks on me kindly until he hears this. "Your majesty, if you are not fully dressed then I can be dismissed as you desire."

"No." Both of them stare at my abruptness and I find myself being just as equally surprised at my reaction. Unlike them though I have to save myself from seeming out of character. "It will only take a few moments for Enid to finish. You don't have to leave. Please stay."

Those last two words. I can't believe that I dared to sound so desperate. I am the queen, not a whimpering girl. I should not speak so openly about my- my- the only word to use seems be my "wants." I want him to stay here with me and watch. His company is the closest thing to feeling alive once again; to feeling human at all.

"As you command, my queen." His full lips curl under the dark mustache. He appears pleased by something that I have said. "In that case, I may be allowed to explain why I am here."

Sitting down as well, I stare openly into the mirror of my vanity. From the corner of the reflection, I see him eying Enid as she piles strands then pins them. His expression is so happy. My goodness, I can hardly recall being so happy with a simply day. Only when Daniel was alive, and I was simply a daughter to a miller. How far away that life is, now.

"The king thought that I might entertain your majesty."

The idea should be pleasing but instead it is most displeasing. "Gentle sir, what is your name?"

His hands grip the loose fabric of his pants. I know signs of nervousness when I see them and I worry that I may have done something to distress him. However, his voice is as steady as ever before. "I- I don't remember my true name. I have been Jinn for so long that my name escaped long before I did."

"You have already been released from one prison." Enid tucks a curl behind my ear and I know that it is a warning over my behavior but it is ignored. "I would not have you be placed in another. You may stay in my company as a..."

He is a man and there is danger behind his friendship. The courtiers would have their fill of gossip and tawdry rumors if I don't choose my words carefully. Slowly, it dawns on me that Leopold sees both of us as harmless toys. Not human beings that may see more within the other. My anger nips and I hold back on speaking for the moment. This man should not have to bear the hate that is inside of me. No one should. That has always been my reasoning for remaining far and distant from any that I may feel something for.

"A consort?" He offers it so lightly that I leave his reflection and stare at the man himself with no other intention than to just look at him. "I may be of some service if the queen may need someone to fetch errands or deliver messages to the king."

Only now I realize that Enid has finished and left both of us. Alone. No one else but us in my private chambers. I stand up and watch him rise quickly out of respect. I look out of my window and realize that it is a day better spent inside. A little idea grows inside my mind and I find it too tempting to dismiss.

"Sir, do you know many stories? The day is not looking so well and the castle can only offer so many distractions." I walk up to him and stand at a distance that I should find to be pleasing; I do not. I want to be so much closer. Far past what is appropriate for a married woman and another man.

Amused by my question, he laughs most generously. It is warm and filling. The experience of it is like drinking the most sumptuous brew and feeling a million times better. I would have him laugh forever if his happiness is so catching as it is at this moment. Even I smile; a true one.

"My queen, I have enough tales to fill a thousand and one nights and more." Instead of taking lead and escorting me out, he steps back and allows me to take control of our stroll. "I promise your majesty that we will never run out of things to speak of. I swear on heaven itself."

He may not ever know this but being shown as much respect as the king is one of the greatest gifts that he could give. Only my father ever allowed me such liberty of conversation. I step ahead of him and he takes up the space at my side. We walk on and I find myself looking forward to the day as it were my first. How can he make me feel reborn when I am damaged beyond repair?

Yet, as his dark eyes meet mine, I feel something inside heal. Little by little. Thank the gods for rainy days.


	3. What Sunsets Will Do

**What Sunsets Will Do**

We have yet to leave each other's side. Our walk began in the early morning hour and has continued into the late afternoon. At the top of the highest tower, we halt to watch the sun bid its farewell to the day. The large lake moves at a pace that a slow wind sets. No rain has fallen yet. I say that because the clouds are painted a bloody red by the sun but they remain there nonetheless. Air still holds onto that chill I despise.

My companion's lack of attire worries me as I realize that we are held up high in the sky and it is colder than I had expected. We stand only a stride apart but it feels like miles between us. He meets my glance as I visually trace the line of his ribs to shoulders. A blush covers my face before I can control it and I stare out to the scene to hide it.

"Would the queen prefer that I change my garments?" He opens his vest and my gaze reaches in further than it had dared to before. With a dried mouth and barely operating voice, I shake my head in negation.

"It's just that it is so cold here." I drop my stare to the ground and try piece together my explanation. Further away from thoughts of his well-mannered physique. "Your homeland must be much warmer. Are you not cold?"

The former genie leans down against the stone rail and speaks kindly. "During the day, my homeland is no more than hot sands and high winds. The night though is surprisingly colder than would be expected. Even colder than this weather."

"You are used to it far better than me." My velvet covered limbs hardly keep off the chill of dusk. If there were no consequences to such an action, I would lean into his muscled frame and bask in his body's warmth. Alas, societal view ruins practically anything practical or pleasurable. Until I hear the sweep of cloth in the air and find him with his arms encircling me.

"It is hardly fit for a queen but it can keep the night's coldness at bay." I hold onto the silk wrap as if it were a treasure and drink in the closeness of his voice. "Perhaps, your majesty would prefer to retire for the time being."

Immediately, I protest at his suggestion. "That will not be necessary. This will keep me warm. See," I reach across and touch the back of his hand. "I am already recovered. Thank you."

No discoloration or hair across his skin. Just the smooth tallow of muscled flesh and bone. Briefly, I think of how it would feel to hold such hands every day for the rest of my life; although, I don't dare remain attached to his hand for another second. I slide my hand away and hold the makeshift wrap around me as tightly as possible. Our attentions stray away from each other and go towards the sun. Even if it is undeniable that we are more aware of each other's presence than anything else around us.

"Another story, majesty?" The mellow accent only serves to enthrall my vigor to a higher pace.

I would say yes at every moment if it meant that he would never part from me. Does it seem terribly insane if I can now say that I finally understand what it means to thrive; more like flourish. At a word, I could tell of my entire life without the fear of outcry or scorn over my deepest thoughts. At a glance, all shame over desire and the rejection of the limitations of being a woman goes missing. Completely vanishes from my mind and body. But it is his presence that is the greatest inspiration.

I lived- No, that isn't right. I would have lived for Daniel. I imagined a marriage of bliss; a joining of souls. He would have been my entire life, my everything. Yet, somehow with this man, I am experiencing a doppelganger experience that bears no other similarities except for one.

He gives hope. Hope. I understand that sentiment so much more now that I no longer hold onto it. I have numbed myself to the chance of ever finding it again. To be able to believe that life can turn a corner and find the hidden treasure of dreams. Is it so foolish to question if Daniel- No. I blink at the thought, startling myself with the notion, and am angered all at once.

How could I ever doubt our love. The sinking sun only gives one last glorious shine and I feel as though it is my Daniel on the other side speaking to me. _Don__'__t forget me, Regina._ My protector and my best friend. He kept me sweet when my mother meant for me to be just as deranged as herself. My only happiness was him being at my side and that has been the only truth I've been able to count on.

But if that is so, then what is this man?

He doesn't appear to notice that I am looking at him, instead of the gloomy dusk. Strong features of dignity and kindness adorn him on every level. His pronounced jaw and high cheekbones. The darkness of his eyes and the mischievous glint that flickers inside them. He is nothing like Daniel and yet, I find that he measures up to him more than anyone else that I have ever encountered.

"Your majesty?"

His inquiry takes a hold of me and I answer back as expected. "I think now would be the time for us to return. Leopold will want you to prepare for dinner."

Softly, he underlines a question as we head back. "Have you already summoned a gift for the king?"

I hold up in the tower archway as I realize that Leopold's birthday is tomorrow. As is his celebratory banquet. Misfortune would have me show up without a gift so it seems. Slowly, I continue down the steps and try to calculate how to find a present in so little time. Not keeping it to myself, I admit my folly.

"I had forgotten. I fear that the king will be most displeased." My heart actually welcomes Leopold's discontent. The old fool, but it is embarrassing nonetheless.

"I think not, your majesty. The king," He reaches the bottom step ahead of me and offers me his hand as I descend. "Expressed to me that his only birthday wish is for all to be in a festive mood."

No holding palm to palm. Only the tips of fingers join us together. I almost fall for the impression that we are dancing; his outstretched limb only adds to the illusion. Now my only longing is for him to take me in his arms. If only such a wish could be granted.

"No one will dare ruin his evening."

That was far colder than I had meant for it to be. The jinn only nods at my sentiment. I have turned the conversation around a corner of seriousness. No more comments from me; I decide that as we go about. Nothing else needs to be said. Glances are far more telling than our words could ever be; after all, there are no restrictions or dangers attached to looking. Even if my eyes burn brighter than any enchanted flame when his gaze meets mine. Perhaps, souls speak within gazes and touch as well.

Through the dining hall, bustling with servants and decorators. All in preparation for the king's birthday feast. Courtiers, consorts, and ambassadors will be attending with their own guests. It will be a writhing mass of expensive colognes, full cups of ale, and vulgar clothes from far-off lands. No one is interested in the king's birthday, at least, not what I consider to be genuine interest. It is only an opportunity for those that my husband confers with when he feels that they have played nice.

Men of ill means and overly large impressions of self-importance. I would not stoop to denying that Leopold is a generous king. By any measure, his kingdom is an ideal one. The subjects are believably more content than those under other rulers. The crops are grown and harvested, summer after summer, with unchanged ease. Seasons bloom and crumble with an eerie timelessness that no one likes to question. This kingdom is what all wish to possess.

I want to escape from it. I want a life that has no connection to it. I want my own idealistic place to be. Not in, or as, the property of Leopold.

A tug on my long sleeve and a grand voice remind me that our day is at an end. "My queen, I-"

He pauses so suddenly that I turn to give him my utmost concentration. "Yes?"

At this moment, I wish he had a name. "What is it?"

"I will bid you farewell for now." Again, he performs that trademark gesture of graciousness and respect. "But I am unsure if I should return to the king's side or wait for you."

He has yet to release me and no resistance stems from me to his gentle grip. I do remember that we do have guards in this hall. Despite the fact that we are shielded by the width of my skirt; I know how quickly can become distorted. In that case, I step in closer as though it is to be no more than a whisper from me.

"You may return to your quarters if you wish." The gleam of his eyes that had erupted at my shortened distance fades ever so slightly and I know that I have to recapture it. "Until I send for you and then you will join us for dinner."

The long bow that he openly extends with in front me has him release me. He doesn't see but unconsciously my hand seeks to reclaim his. I reach for him still and it stays as a silent discourse from me to nothing else. He gives me the daring arch of eyebrow that speaks of being pleased and- and something else. A sentiment that is far more ancient and primal than the manners of any court. The sensation that only one human being can ignite the passion of another and both of them are fully aware of it. The need to be wanted and to desire someone. It curls up inside me, and warmth of the likes that I have experienced only once threatens to take over.

As I imagine what it would be like to take his lower lip between my teeth, his voice interrupts.

"In that case, until tonight, my queen."

I relish the thought of being "his" queen as he walks the opposite direction and I am left with a hunger that will never be sated by a simple dinner. I can only pray that he feels even a shadow of what I feel, and if he doesn't, I will always dream of what could have been. Together, happy, and most of all, free.


	4. Loose Strands Unravel

Loose Strands Unravel

Is it possible that luck would have me suffer and nothing else? Last night, I dressed with the vigor of a young maiden racing to see her love. My hair coiffed to perfection. Dark lines drawn around my eyes to enhance their shape. The dye of currant berries painted on my lips. One of my finer gowns hung on my shoulders as my body filled the cut in a precise manner.

All that preparation for Leopold to steal away my only source of comfort and leave me to dine with Snow. The little princess only picked at her food and spoke of trivial events throughout her day. All of it hardly worth the breath she wasted in speaking. The men dined in their quarters together while I had to endure an insipid recollection of Snow picking flowers with her mother as a child. I shined with as much motherly affection as anyone could and all the while, picturing her demise.

Torn apart by savage beasts. Drowning in the Great Lake by sirens pulling her down to the depths; the look on Leopold's face for that one was quite succulent. I do have a single favorite though, and it remains the highlight of all.

Never rescuing her from that horse. I just let it run on and on; maybe, she falls, maybe not. Just so our paths had never crossed.

But that evening is over, and the next approaches. I oversaw the banquet's seating and minor preparations. Snow's dress has been approved; with gritted teeth, I styled her hair myself. She smiled and fawned before running off to greet the royals from other kingdoms. I slipped away to prepare myself. I enjoy the time alone; the bliss of being separated from all of them. Closing my eyes, I sink away to somewhere far off and rest my head against the vanity.

"My dear, it's almost time." Of course, Enid would creep up on me. "I have your gown ready."

My mind tries to count the number of times that she has repeated the same lines to me. 'I have your gown', 'we must prepare', 'your bath is ready', 'the king wishes to see you,' etc. How terrifying it is to realize that these are what form the entirety of spoken word during my days.

Her roughened touch lands on my bare shoulder. "Come now, your majesty. The king awaits."

"Why bother attending, Enid?" A glimmer of the candles' flames create an ethereal and heartbreaking ambiance in the room. "Every year is the same. Every day is the same. The conversation never strays from the same subjects. There is no life here. Maybe my absence will make Leopold see that."

Her pulse trembles through her wizened fingers. Such a delicate creature but she works better than any of the other maids; all of them were scores younger. Yet, there was always something missing. They couldn't see the gauntness of my soul behind the pretty mask. Not like Enid.

"What do you want, girl?" I stare at her tiny face in the dimmed light.

"What?"

"I said what do you want." My mind races with a thousand suggestions but none of it speaks aloud. "There must be something, your majesty. A family? Children? More-"

"I want freedom." It escapes so suddenly that I have to clarify what I mean before I seem utterly crazy. "A life of my own. That is all I want."

A laugh comes from that woman and in that second, I know that there is more to her than I had counted on. "If you want such things, then you have to take them, and the only way to take them is through power."

"Enid." I stand tall to her minute built and squarely stare down at her. "I can't. I am only the queen. Leopold is king."

"But he won't be forever. You are much younger, my dear, and stronger." The final word is spoken so low that I strain to her. "You will outlast him."

I know what she is saying. In the first few years of marriage, I had savored this conclusion. Leopold would die and I would be left a widow. However, I hadn't counted on the years being so long and time becoming heavier on my soul. Eventually, I realized that even if the man did die so soon, my desire for such freedom may not have survived.

"It will be too late by then. My life will be half over and it is his daughter and her husband that will ascend the throne."

"Unless," Her step scratches against the stone floor as she tiptoes closer. "He dies now. In an unfortunate _accident._"

Instantly, I seize her by thin shoulders and force her to the bed's edge. "You put both of us in danger by saying such things."

"I am only saying what you don't dare to, my dear." All the sweetness that I had witnessed in her features vanishes into a blank void and only a rasped sound remains. "I dress you every day in this room. I treat you as though you were my daughter. I have to listen to your weeping in the evenings and the sadness that you carry through those doors.

"You have all the comforts of a queen but what is it worth in the end, dear? It can't get you love or happiness. Leopold doesn't love you and I don't you see you rushing to fall into his arms. You are wasting away for nothing. Might as well leave the kingdom and damn everything else."

I stare at her in total awe. Me, the queen in complete royal presence and her, a scullery maid in a crumpled skirt. Somehow though she is the one with more command and I am the submissive subject. Why hadn't my mother spoken so to me? Where was her shock and ardor for me to live? Where was her heart? I know that the comprehension of her ideas is not a massive step to take; that is not why I hold back. It is far beyond fear or guilt or even anger.

It is terror.

The torture that awaits me if I leave. To cope with the failure of not putting a stopper to the happiness of Snow White and Leopold is not within me. I must be the one that is driven out as they walk into the bliss of happily ever after? Inwardly, I cringe at the years of agony I would endure of self-flagellation over my failure. I cannot let this go so easily.

"There are things that I cannot let go. I can't leave. I will not leave." The death in my voice doesn't seem to affect her. Her spritely spirit only grows.

"All the more reason, my dear, to consider other options." Something slides over my shoulder and everything in my world has come to a halt. "You walk a dangerous path if you think that the king doesn't pay attention to your majesty."

The jinn's silk wrap. The silvery blue fabric chills my shoulders. I had kept it under my pillow while knowing that Enid might find it but I had not imagined she would know its origins. I pull it from her hand and try to restore some sense of tenderness that I had for it. "Even if I left- for any cause, I have to finish something first. This and the genie are nothing to me. You have revealed nothing, Enid."

As I say these words, every consonant cuts deeper into my soul. How despicable all of it is but I have to do this; I must be like this. I have always had to, I find that revelation is not so alien to me and has been inside the depths of my mind. Yes, I have known it. I should have heeded it too. The only excuse that could be offered is that passion overruled reason. Yet, I see no reason in this case that my heart should be judged to be anything less than needing and wanting of more than what was offered to me. If my life, as a human, as a woman, were fulfilled and entirely witnessed as content than my straying heart should be ripped from my chest and fed to monsters of glory and lore. However, what is here in this castle that has held my heart to it?

Nothing.

I was alone. In company, heart, and soul, and even if the genie left on voyage tomorrow's tide; I would feel less lonely than I have in my entire existence. Just by knowing that the man who has awaken me is alive and vital in this world with or without me.

Enid begins to take the wrap back from me, despite my tightened grip. "Then he is here for your utilization."

Pain grips me in hysteria and I find the coldness of my soul released. "No, he will not do. If the king were to fall, it would require an expert hand. Not a bumbling slave."

"You have magic, my dear." She shrinks back when she says this. Her grip stays strong on the fabric but her eyes shine wild with fear. "You could enchant him. Make him into whatever you need, or use your spells against the king-"

The pulsing vein intensifies in its flow. I can see it practically pulsating in her neck. She knows what I am and now I am aware of that fact. Enid never mentioned such things before and I have to admit that she has been very clever to have stayed quiet. I am not the delicate queen that I play for Leopold and everyone else. Leopold is no more than a tinkering buzzing insect that I could crush with a swipe of my hand if I so wished it. If Enid knows about my powers than she is very aware of what I am capable of.

"You dare to tell me how to be rid of the king?" I rip the cloth out of her hand and she only jumps at my incensed action as she sits back onto the bed. "I am not the virtuous queen that the court laughs at nor the doting stepmother. You may have seen me weep in my private chambers and display a sullen disposition over my predicament but do not be fooled, Enid. I am commanded by no one. Least of all, a chambermaid.

"You think the little spell books you glanced through or the small acts I've performed are major things and that is quite laughable. I can hold back the Dark One and so much more. Your life could cease with a turn of my skirt. You are not allowed to tell me how to dispose of anyone!"

I point to the dress she laid out so carefully in the wardrobe. A winter blue. Satin layers and sewn jewels. Garb fit only for a queen. I point to the dress and by that action, my dress winds itself around me. The dressing robe fades away. Diamonds assort themselves in quick variations, placing rings, bracelets, and earrings. My hair springs to life and twirls into an adornment fixed for a crown. I spin in front of the mirror and a horrified Enid.

I do look quite well tonight.

"As you can see, I don't need you. I never needed you. I need no one." She sits on the bed in a huddled posture and I cruelly go on as I do believe she deserves it. "I accepted you into my service because you were convenient."

I barely catch the murmur of wispy voice. "I only wished to aid your majesty."

It should be frightening to me that yesterday she was the mother I always yearned for and now, she is absolutely nothing to me. More trash to be disposed of. It may not show but I yearn for my soul more than anything else. I would give anything for my heart to be whole again.

"Your services are no longer required." Finally, her head lifts and I see her expression. Hurt and startled. Grimly, it does give me small satisfaction. "Leave the kingdom and never return. Tell anyone of these conversation or any others within these walls and I will destroy all you hold dear, all you love."

Her shaky limbs and horrid sense of gravity conspire against her as she stands. The old instinct of rushing to help her has abandoned me. She is now without a daughter or a friend in me.

"You are simply letting me go, my dear?" Her hooded cap flops off with her removal. "After all that has been done and said, your majesty?"

My painted visage is wicked in its vulgar stare and features, I am all too aware; so I use it to my advantage. "You are of no further use, Enid. Be gone before I remember how much of a liability you have become."

For a moment, I wonder if she is going to beg to stay. Plead with me and apologize for her snooping. Give me a hundred reasons for why I should keep her. But thankfully, she remains for only a second more before shuffling off through the doors. I watch the heavy oak barriers close off sight of her departure. If I have any regret about Enid, it is that I couldn't have kept her longer. I couldn't have had a mother for longer.

This instance feels so heavy, laden with a sense of grief, anger, and confusion. I did not lie when I said that I am not as I appear. I lie to everyone and everything. I even lie to myself during the better part of my days. In many ways, I wish I were the kind and naïve person that I am believed to be. How easy it would be to waste the days without a protest about my position or my life. Like Snow White and her father. Untouched and unmiserable.

But I am not. I quiver at the reflection facing me in the mirror. The woman I am with her flawless makeup that only serves to hide the true ugliness that is not shown on the outside; only hidden within. I had started out as a fair beauty with purity and goodness in her soul. Now I am this. The queen and the sorceress; everything that I had endeavored to not become.

Outside of the kingdom, a figure traipses through the tangled forest. An old hag of disproportionate figure that only comes with age. Her limbs, slow and weak. Eyesight seemingly unsteady. She stoops underneath a branch and lays down her heavy burden of a body onto a moss sloughed log.

Any passing would not notice anything amiss. To them, a grandmother resting from a hard day's labor. No more and no less.

To those who were to stay a second longer; evil in its other form.

The tattered shawl is thrown aside. Cap, skirt, and top all piled off to be forgotten on the forest floor. A tornado of maddening red fog covers the bared figure. No other sound is made any other living thing until the stream of mist retreats. Then there stands the true personage that had made of use of the elderly disguise. Any villager would not need to question who stands against the log; as children, they were warned again and again. As adults, they openly fear and despise the creature that lounges about in giggling strides while the moon shines down on him. His miniscule stature and lizard-like features strike anyone ill and are legendary.

He is no stranger to anything in this world. Not to the lit kingdom he glares and grins devilishly at or to the young queen that he had just deceived through disguise. Despite the fact that she has been his student for the past decade, she still remains disappointing. The sorcerer doesn't know where he went wrong with her and he can't comprehend how she progresses so much under his tutelage; only to regress so far from a single encounter with a genie. Then the queen delivered the final blow to his pride; she let him go, instead of bringing about his death. She let a loose strand hang and now he has decided that she is to pay for it.

Because Rumpelstiltskin can't have her so weak and soft. Not when he needs her to be the complete opposite. _Oh no_, his long fangs glimmer in his smile as he mentally critiques the perfect _lesson_ for his student. Something for her to learn from and for him to benefit from; she will break her own heart.


	5. Moons and Their Comets

**Moons and their Comets**

Everything is ideal.

Chandeliers aligned with ribbon and scented tallow of cinnamon. Tables crammed to the edges with meats spilling over platters, fruits tumbling from bowls, and countless jugs of honey mead. The denizens of the royal court stream through doors and around their gathering bunches. The wealth displayed could supply ten kingdoms alone for several winters.

Yes, I can't spot a single flaw in the scene. For someone, this is the perfect life. Snow White bounds around the room with the clumsy grace that only a young woman could contain. Overcome with happiness and excitement while trying to maintain the regality of a princess. If I didn't despise her as so, I would love that about her. I would genuinely like her.

Maybe in some other story where we were not bound under such circumstances.

"Every woman in the court is a jealous one." I don't need to even search for whose voice travels across my shoulder. "They are not used to competing with the moon herself."

He stands behind my chair and with the table being set on high ground; he cranes his neck to speak. I finally glance around my stoop and his wide smile catches mine. His vest is bejeweled to the point of eccentric but it miraculously doesn't appear odd on him. The turban is a red design mixed with the tiniest stripe of blue. A new choker of gold and emerald shines from his neck. I approve and he laughs merrily at my open critique.

"If the moon always has to sit so high and separate, no wonder she is so pale with loneliness. And boredom."

Listening to my retort only appears to add to his happiness. I gape at him in friendly shyness for only a moment because I can't remember ever making someone so happy by doing so little. Only my presence is enough for him to be enthralled with joy; I guess he feels as so because I am infected by the same.

He pulls back slightly from the leaned-in position he had held. I follow his movement and silence with another remark. "Which woman here is the moon and why would we be jealous of her? Unless you are referring to the princess."

I glance towards her in her shimmering gown. I watch her drink up the brown mead and she gazes back at me. Her delicate wrist extends a greeting which I return with a twin flick of my wrist. Always the dedicated motherly corpse-like figure.

"No. I wasn't referring to the princess." I keep peering out at the crowd. "She is lovely, but-"

My sudden attention appears to have shocked him. He is only a step away from mine. His stare is so deep that I feel myself fallin- No, I concentrate and prod him on. "But?"

He licks his lips. I freeze and I really don't know why I've halted. Is it the fullness, the sculpted angle of his mouth? My eyes almost roll to the back of my head as I imagine having them and his tongue captured by my own. Before I can escape into an imaginary tryst that exists only for me, I take hold onto the reality. My frame stands up to find that I only have the courage to remain at my high point. So, I simply return his silent adoration with a quiet tightlipped smile.

"She is barely even a comet traveling near the moon."

My heart catches in my chest, beating quickly and pumping blood rigidly throughout my body. My cheeks, flushed and hot. Surely, I think to myself, I can act with more decorum than this.

"You still have yet to reveal the identity of the moon."

"Perhaps another time, my queen."

Then as though nothing had been greatly affected, he departs. His powerful form slips through the crowd and I am once again lost.


	6. The Fairest

**The Fairest**

With dinner devoured and half of the wine barrels taken away, the party has slowed. The subjects are feeling fed and are satisfied with the festive atmosphere. Minstrels stroll languidly in front of the long tables, playing and singing together. The songs tell of long stories of princesses and their true loves. Never do they describe the lives of the queens after they are married.

I almost snort at the childish idea of "happy ever after." Do they think that life suddenly comes to an end, like the closing of a story book? I play with the silky fabric of my skirt as the evening goes on.

"Are you well, Regina?"

Leopold places a chicken leg, picked off delicately, on to a metal platter. I look over at his finished meal with no expression of distaste or hunger; I know how closely he watches my reactions when he has been indulging in any sort of spirits. "You have yet to even smile tonight."

Immediately, I do just that. It is always better to just allow him whatever it is that he wishes. Often times if he doesn't get his way, he has that annoying habit of throwing tantrums as a child would but in his case, Leopold can be a very dangerous child if he so wished to be. "I like seeing you smile, my queen. As do our people. Are you not in a celebratory mood?"

"It's not that, your majesty." Excuses by the dozen line up to be told. "I am only concerned about Snow White. She is so beautiful and there are many young men at this dinner; yet none have seemed to catch her eye."

The point of that comment slips through so subtly. "The princess is almost upon the age of marriage. I was only a year older than her when I became queen."

"Eight years, have they passed so quickly?" Another gulp of wine he drowns down singly before huffing at me with his rancid breath. "You have been such a wonderful stepmother to my daughter, Regina."

"Thank you." I am far beyond disgusted but no one would know that by the heightened tone in my voice and the big smile I show. "She makes it so easy for me to love her as if she were my own."

"That is what drew me to you. Did you know that?" His body shifts in the large chair and I know that he is attempting to have an intimate conversation. Although the slight slurring ruins the regality that he normally attains. "You were only a young girl then. So fair and kind."

Then there is what I have avoided and dreaded for the past eight years of this joke of a marriage. His hand on my upper thigh. He presses down on my leg in such a sloppy manner that I feel the metal rings on his fingers as he squeezes. "Now, you are a woman. A very attractive woman."

Peering into his gaze of dirty meanings and innuendo, I keep down the vomit that threatens to erupt. I could scream at him to take his damned hands off of me. To take his self back to his rooms and sober up until he is decent for public appearance. Even the desire to dig my nails into eyes until they are mashed into his brains springs up in my mind.

Leopold may appear "good" and "respectable" but in actuality, he is just like his wretched daughter. They are both rotten and decayed at the core. No more and no less.

I peel his hand off my thigh as the final option to everything else that I had considered. It lays against the arm chair as though he can't believe that I had ever acted so rebellious in public. For a second, Leopold lolls his eyes at me like he had never seen me before quietly snarling. "Do I displease my queen with my affections?"

Gesturing to the crowd before us, I whisper to Leopold in a warm voice. "The night is young yet, my king. Don't forget your subjects."

"Ah, in that case," In a movement that is so out of character for him, he takes up my hand and kisses my knuckles. Hitting my bone against his teeth in the process, I cringe slightly at that. "I will get rid of them."

Leopold begins to stand up and I offer my arm as leverage for him. Again, he holds onto me too tightly and nearly injures me in the process of stepping down from the high table's setting. He sidesteps until regaining his senses. Everyone's eyes are on him until he makes up to his throne at the front of the banquet hall.

"No gifts are required to mark this special day, for they all pale in comparison to the greatest gift of all." The curiosity is cut short at his insinuation of speech when he murmurs. "My daughter, Snow."

Her smooth features light up immediately at such kind words. "Father."

I clap and so does everyone else as expected.

The perfect father and daughter. No malicious intent exists in them. Almost as if they were divine and absolute from the rest. Sadly, I am sensible enough to know that it is neither their manner or their positions as monarchs that elevates them. It is their happiness.

She stands on the platform, joint with Leopold, and embraces him. "Father, you make me blush."

The anticipating hush falls upon us as Leopold continues. "Every day I look upon your face, and I am reminded of your dearly departed mother, who like you, truly was the fairest in all the land."

Yes, I will never match her. The former queen and wife of the Leopold.

The lovely Emma. The tales of her beauty always surpass the very overly exaggerated rumors of my beauty. In my most candid moments of self-realization, I like to stare into my mirror. It's quite poignant what can be seen within a reflection. What others see and what one sees.

I always see my mother's hints of dark beauty as well. The cherry black hair and high eyebrows. My round features are from my father's side. He always tells me that my nose and eyes were from my grandmother. But there are the moments that I can spot the parts of myself that even I don't wish to know. The anger and hurt. I would love to dispose of them. Take all of it to somewhere far away that will just swallow every undesirable part of my past and my person. Even if I were so beautiful that the moon itself were my equal, as _he_ says, I would still understand that my beauty will always be limited by my lack of wholeness and goodness. It is those things that truly construct the truth of beauty.

Like Snow's glamour. Understandable and comprehensively beautiful.

I once loved to hear my own father tell me how beautiful and special I was. I had stood as tall and proud as Snow White does before her father. I loved him with as much of an open heart as hers. Nothing, but the utmost tenderness and devotion between a parent and their child.

Now it's all gone. Everything is all gone.

Too much. It's all too much for me. Suddenly, the very sight of so much merriment is beyond enduring. My senses drown in the background around me until I feel less than human. Only the raw taste of being inept at forgiving, at hoping, at loving; anything that is good and pure seems to be out of my range.

Am I so wicked and unlovable?

The thought divides and hurts as everyone begins their applause for the royal family. Tears threaten to break through for another tirade of self-despise and reclamation of sanity. Quickly, I slip down from the high table. All eyes are so focused on the king and the princess that I don't feel any need to be publicly excused. I leave and no one protests.

No one notices my absence.

Large columns of fine marble. The castle is a spectacle within itself. Hollow, as my own heart, and all for show, as my visage. Was I ever meant for more than this? The scratch of fabric against skin counts as me being human, does it not? I can be broken, and if I take a moment, I know that I already am partially shattered. Actually, falling apart.

Following the moonlight, and its stream of luminescence, my feet take me to the garden without any navigation. This is my favorite part of the castle. Frozen and asleep under snow or lush under summer sun; no other part of this place holds more significance. I was a miller's daughter and was meant for the outside world. As a queen, meant to be attended to and kept in storage, I am a failure; because I am hardly surviving it.

The pebbled ground sounds under my heels; taunting with its artificiality. A small whimper of despair is let out. I wrap my arms around my torso in some sort of mad attempt at self-soothe. My ribs are felt under my fingertips. Pressing through my layers of cloth, I use the discomfort to pull my grief back in. With my head held high, I breathe harshly through my nose and stare at the open moon.

I hate it here.

Through the shadowed branches of the apple tree, the moon sits among the ripened fruit. As if it was an enchanted piece. As if I could lift it from a sprig and consume it. Would it satisfy my hunger for wholeness, my craving for revenge, or my need to fulfill my loss?

It would be enough to just forget. To cease being Regina.

"Not in a festive mood?"

Unexpectedly, a kind face with caring eyes rescue me from the loneliness of tonight. The jinn holds back with a composure of humor and quiet companionship. Before I can control myself, I smile back and reveal more of my thoughts than I have been accustomed to.

"No one seems to have noticed my absence." It's chilling to stand before someone, so plain and bare; yet, trusting him all the same.

I try to find something to add but he says exactly what I would have only endeavored to hear. "I noticed."

My lip quivers and I fight to hide it. However, he only looks at me in a strange expression that would have me believe he is in a trance. I start to fall into a similar guise until he steps away to the center of the royal gardens.

"What a lovely tree."

His praise for my favorite centerpiece makes me quite proud to have cultivated it. "Yes, it's from my childhood garden. Well, the tree and I share something in common – neither of us can leave the palace and neither of us truly belongs."

And in the entirety of the honesty that I possess; it may be the only left of who I saw. "No matter how hard I try to please the King, he will never love me the way he loved his first wife. I'm trapped by the memory of a life they used to share."

"I know about being trapped." My despair is cut short again by how gently he distributes a harsh sincerity. "More than anyone."

He speaks of being trapped, and I know it to be true. I respect his struggle because it is my own multiplied by several lifetimes' worth. I can't imagine the strength that was needed to bear the continuous loss of time, or the pain that accompanied it.

Does such shared experience bind us so tightly? That we have both suffered the same taking of life and choice, we are essential in joining; I feel that. However, feelings are often misleading, useless, and largely dangerous.

"Maybe this will lift your spirits."

A long sack hangs from his belt. I had noticed it but my curiosity is an unmarked as the plain cloth of the item in question. Nimble fingers undo the fastenings and a gilded handle appears. A mirror; golden and handheld. As he hands it to me, I am reminded of how I was once treated. Solely with tenderness and respect.

Only for a mere second, he cradles the mirror inside my hand. His flesh touches upon mine then retreats as if burned by such contact. His voice though does not cease from reaching deep inside me.

"So you can see yourself the way I see you."

My reflection fills up the tiny space of glass. My tears shine like diamonds holding moonlight. The plum of my lips, smooth in appearance but deep as though they hold only the voice of melancholy. My cheeks have sharpened with age; no more bloom or ripening to them. All I see is the shell of a woman that had been someone; or at least, once lived some semblance of a life. Instantly, dread comes out of my psyche as I wonder about the jinn. What he must see is far more wretched than what I can. Keeping all sense of fear and insecurity inside, I ask with bated breath. "And how do you see me?"

I look straight into his eyes. Those wizened and endless orbs of midnight chocolate. He has no change in his mellow expression and his voice remains soft. As though he is speaking to something valued; delicate enough to be broken by words said aloud. Such tenderness seizes all my attempts at trying to put up the walls around my heart and soul.

"As the fairest in all the land."


	7. Taken Back

**Taken Back**

I almost do not believe that he has uttered such words, but he did.

He whispered a thousand lines of poetry written by the finest in only seven words. His eyes only examine with a sweet fondness, and I could swear that by this alone he has sculpted my chaste body with hands of passion. Only in my company and within my knowledge for a small number of days; yet, it feels like a lifetime or two. Clutching onto the mirror and barely holding myself together, I allow a single tear.

No one may understand the impression of one to me. I may lack the cooperation and the patience to explain; for it would lead to me explaining everything else about myself. Something that I can never allow to take place.

Nonetheless, I do not have to tell him. Every visible aspect of him tells me that he does understand. He knows me in the same way that I know him. It doesn't matter what I've done or what his past actions have been. The only fact that continues to stun me is how I yearn for him in a way that I have only felt once before.

I lower the mirror and as if by some invisible spell, everything in front of me has faded. He has changed my world. He is everything. He is my world.

"I-" my voice croaks unpleasantly, blemished by raw emotion. Clearing my throat, I also decide to sit for a while, "I would like to give you something as well. If you will accept it."

Taking my actions as an invitation, he sits on the same ledge surrounding the apple tree. Only the looking glass lies between us. "So much has already been given to me. What more could I want for?"

"A name." I say it so suddenly and realize that maybe I am too rash for suggesting it. "I would like to give you a name, if and only if, you would like me to."

Again, that thick silence of unsaid adoration and gratitude stands just as vulnerable between us as our very hearts. Bared to each other and neither are fleeing. The ivory of his teeth flash through the dim ambiance. Slowly, I try to engrave his image through the murkiness of memory, despised and treasured. This night will be held inside as beloved above all, even if I already know that he will have to remain as unobtainable.

"You honor me with such a request, my queen." The glare of his rings catches my sight. Emerald and ruby set next together. "What name have you chosen?"

"Alim." The arched sound of the "a" is attempted as his accent demands. I remember it from one of the tales that he had recounted during our one day together. "Like the holy man you spoke of."

"The one who bade the prince to not marry the merchant's daughter." With a stroke of his mustache, he adds lightly. "A wise man."

"It is a beautiful name when you say it." One of my fond memories is of his broad voice enunciating the name. "I say it so plainly and so indelicately that all the beauty of it is lost."

He raises a finger in so efficient a manner that it catches my attention immediately. I watch him place the long digit behind his ear and bid me to listen. "Ah-leem."

The sound is both closed and open. His tongue hangs high against his palate as he exhales the sound once more. "Ah. My queen, if you want the sound then you must practice."

I shudder against the coarseness of his palm as it rest against my cheek. Fingertips press under and behind my jawbone. I bring my own hand to cover hi and sink into the feel of him against me. He only pauses for a second before continuing with the dictation lesson.

"Ah."

It catches in my throat as I try to emit the same sound. "Aah."

"Too long. It should be short." His thumb moves over my face in a light caress. "Try to think of it as the moment before a sneeze. It won't sound pleasant to your ears at first but with practice, it will improve."

Once more, he repeats the sound.

I try to imagine how it must feel inside his throat and nose. How the air scrapes against the back of his mouth, traveling over the roof of the mouth. My mouth opens wide like his.

"Ah-leem."

It's slow. It's raspy. I would be embarrassed if anyone else heard me but when he smiles at like so. Eyes ablazed. Hand underneath mine touching so softly. For him, I would repeat the word millions of times.

"Flawless." The way he says the praise makes me question if he means how the said the word or me, in particular. "Perfection."

Once more, I wonder what he is referring to. The pads of his finger travel down my cheekbone to stroking my chin. The expression in his stare tells me more than can be said. For a split second, I let myself go. I muzzle his warm palm and wish that I had the courage to lightly kiss the single vein that bulges at the wrist. I hold the limb closely between my hands and interlock mine with his.

Moon and sun joined together.

"Thank you for your kindness, Alim."

"And for yours, my-" Ever softly, he rephrases his sentence, "Regina. Truly. Thank you."

His grip tightens lightly around my hand. It makes me feel good to know he's here, to know that he wants to be here, and that he is happy. Everything feels perfect for once.

Time is a very contradictive thing. My time with Daniel always seemed to be cut short. A day of riding and swimming passed in the blink of an eye. The years I spent under my mother's dominion were an eternity. They summed my childhood and adolescence; if you had asked me then, I would have conducted that as my very existence.

Everything that I have loved or has loved me never lasts. That may be the bitterest conclusion I could ever make about fate's treatment of me. It's the only fear that I have and just as it seems to come, it is gone. I am so lost in it, I barely spot Alim moving the mirror to the side and moving closer.

Generally, I would expect any man to grab me. Kiss me senseless. Hands are prone to wander. Yet, he has surprised me before and is doing so now. Arranging his seating position with such hushed leisure, he ends up with one leg propped up on the concrete and leaning on it for balance. I do envy such freedom of movement; the restraint of hoops and skirts only adds to the invisible bars that divide the cells of my prison.

"You're very blessed, Alim." His new name fits well on my tongue. "You were trapped and now you are free to go out into the world and do as you wish. Be who you want. I envy you for that."

Slightly dazed by my words, he draws in a deep breath. His ribs expand then detract under the dusty flesh. In a sense, I suspect that he is conflicted by this but I don't understand which aspect is most catching. He is truly liberated, I wish for him to see it and to enjoy it; savor every detail that will be kept from me.

"What is there to envy-" He looks at me and somehow I know that he is searching for permission. I have no other desire than to hear him say my name, so I only encourage with a nod. "Regina, you are as free as you allow."

My immediate response erupts as lost. Bewildered. "Aren't there always things in life that trap us? Laws, expectations, marriages." My resolve collapses on itself as I hear the memory of my mother dig her claws inside me and my voice becomes hers. "And love. Love is a weakness."

At once, I am gone. So, is Alim. All that stands is the fury. My choking bitterness and hate. Inside of me, it contorts and twists in a perverse dance with Daniel's memory. I couldn't save him from my mother but the worst is that I didn't save him. I should have just let him go because he was my weakness and my mother knew that.

Somewhere in the depths of my being, the education of brutality that my mother provided me was overcome by the temptation that only contemptuous hope could provide.

Slowly, Alim relinquishes me from it all; I cannot explain how I know this. Somehow I hear him through this state of permanent devastation with the simplest words. "I am free because of love."

With an intimidation drawn from the fear of loss, he timidly traces the top of my hand. He had it already drawn to his chest and laid it palm against sternum.

"It gave me hope, Regina, that someday I would find it. No matter how many centuries passed, I kept dreaming that I would free and able to pursue."

"Are you still searching?" I ask because I must know; even if the answer is as obvious as gray on a rainy day or as elusive as the capture of magic. However, I am very much terrified at what his answer may be. My fingers curl over the hairless expanse that peeks through his vest.

His eyes close at my tiny ministrations of touch. I draw small circles; dots and planets in my sensory imagination. My slightly lengthened nails scrape ruggedly as I examine the escape of sighs and fluttering of eyes for any discomfort. No discontinuation shows of his pleasures shows at my own enjoyment. I like this; I have forgotten how good it feels to touch someone.

Having someone with the knowledge that they want you with as much or more fervor is possibly one of the greatest liberties and aphrodisiacs combined. I can believe it because I have yet to experience more freedom than I do in this moment of being able to touch the man as the lover that I wish to be, and have. My body has never been wracked with more simmering sensations of ecstasy and want.

A realization that I had never considered causes my seeking caresses to slide up his neck to his chiseled chin. He gapes at me, admiring in a way, pleading in another, but altogether desiring. Weakly, I smile because one of the most impactful truths has become apparent; to be human is to be free.

Loving, is human. Desire, is human. Struggle, is human.

I have denied myself of liberty, of being human, by giving in to my dark side. I have become a puppet for Rumpelstiltskin, and a reminder of the sick notions of my mother. I gave myself up without protest.

"My queen." He remains so still that I wonder if there is a possibility that my magic has seeped through. I trace a cheekbone, smooth and unkind. His voice rasps so low that I feel the sound resonating inside me. Throbbing between my waist and pelvic bone. "My love-"

Suddenly, the cry of a horrendous creature sounds out. "Regina!"

The king. My mind races around for any routes for escape. I released Alim as soon as I heard Leopold but now I clutch onto him even tighter. He holds my face as though I were made of glass. I tug at his shoulders and urge him pleadingly. "You must go. If he finds you here, I won't be able to see you ever again."

Uncertainty rises up in his voice. "Regina, he is a giving man. He may allow-"

I place my hands against lips of naivety and lean my forehead to his. "No, Alim. I have been his property for years and he is not as he seems. Believe me. Please."

My breath hits his and my mouth follows onto his. For a moment, I am in another life. I dine on the sweetest wine. I only feast on the ripest and most rare of fruits. Every morning is entwined in him. The divine flavor of him transports me to heaven.

He moves his lips slow. The top skims and the bottom presses. Flesh is put together fervently but yet there is no rush. The heat in my core from before flushes, tangles, and grows. All conscious reasoning and rational- All gone.

I had questioned initially if I would ever feel again. Simply feel. Everything had become numbed, except for hate. I can no longer comprehend that. I only know this.

Him. Hands tangled in my hair and pulling me closer. He wishes for me. No sensible explanation for how I know this but I do. I know that he means me no harm. He wants me to be safe in his arms. I take such comfort in that; he cares like no one else does.

Alim rolls his jaw to the side, finding a tender spot in my mouth that makes me moan viciously. Long and deep, my sound flows. Feeling him smile at that, I decide to fulfill my own longing. I nip at his bottom lip and hot it between my teeth. Licking and sucking, I release it with a full kiss back. The action drives Alim to his own drowned groan as I place tiny kisses on his neck.

"Regina!"

This time Leopold seems much closer than before and possibly drunker. "Where have you- gone-"

I stand and fix my appearance back to that of the untouched queen. Alim stares at the opened halls with helplessness. I know he owes the king his liberty and as I tend to my lipstain; I sympathize for a moment. It seems to Alim as though I am unfair but I know that he will understand everything in time.

"Go through the lower levels and they will lead to a staircase in the north hall." I place a last kiss on his lips. "It will lead you back to the main hall. No one will notice your entrance."

Before I can pull away, he kisses me deeper and stronger than before. My knees strain to hold me up so I wrap myself around him. Breaking for breath, he looks me in the eye with concern. "And what of you?"

"My beloved-" My ears detect steps coming. "Go. Go now."

My eyes barely catch his movements as he races off into the night; leaping over the lilac beds. I gasp in horror. It is a dead drop beyond their growth. I rush after him and there he is.

Already at the opposite end of the garden, unharmed and fleeing. He flashes in the moonlight. Then within a glance, Alim disappears from sight.

Now I question if he retains some of his genie magic and keeps it a secret. Already, we share so much and I feel less at odds with my surroundings. I have found someone like me.

"Your highness."

I am dreading my decision at turning around. The king stands, with much difficulty, in royal garb against the castle columns. He dresses like a king but his reddened face and glossy eyes make him into a buffoon. "You did not stay to hear the rest of my speech."

I have faced him like this many times and usually, all he requires in an open ear. Tonight though, tonight is playing out to be very different. Dangerously so.

"I needed fresh air. I was feeling unwell." I link my hands together in front of me and try to keep the conversation short. "It is still seems though that I am exhausted. I think that it would be best if I retired for tonight, my king."

Before I can clear four steps, he blocks my path.

"So soon? Without a gift for your king?"

My insides clench in immediate caution. Leopold has never threatened me with the danger of being forced. Tiny steps circle me around him and out of reaching distance. He, on the other hand, is putting up quite the struggle to stand. I cannot even say a word that will not be filled with venom or despair.

His hand flings itself out and waits. For a second, I am reminded of how my mother expected such subservience as well. Fighting against the impulse to slap his reaching limb away is the only struggle I can keep up.

"Regina." His stance is deadly and matches his tone. His impatience sets him into some semblance of sobriety. "Come here."

"Your majesty-"

A single word creates an even bigger obstacle in my only means of escape. "No."

Why can he not see the disgust in this?

Irritation emits in my sigh and finally, I step forward. It is how I imagine the march to an execution feels. His grubby hands touch my shoulders and in my mind, I see an executioner caressing blade by stone.

Leopold mutter pathetically; all words loaded with a drunk's slur. "Very- pretty. Very very pretty."

Sweaty palms slide over my body. I stare at the apple tree of my childhood, but its bare branches are not what I see. The king cups a breast in an overly rough manner. Grinding himself against my hip. I know what seeks me through the thread of his robes and the entire scene makes me sick to my stomach. This rancid subjection of my body to _her_ father.

Oh, but my thoughts are fleeing.

_They give me the cold of the executioner's block against my cheek. Muted tears over the ordeal dried against the same cheek. Memories of these yards of slaughter bring up imaginary scents of blood. Stone, wood, and hell. Any protest is screamed in this place of nightmares in my mind's resilience._

Clumsy hands sink lower. Pulling up the fabric of my skirt.

_A stout man, executioner of ratted tunic and worn trousers. His boots bring his fast approach._

My hands clench at the shoulders of the king. The struggle of arms tied between holding myself in place and throwing him off.

_Against the dirt, I swear I hear my grim reaper's steps scrape. I count them in frightened numerals before I realize my heart is beating faster than their repetition. _

The naked flesh of my hip is exposed. The curve of skin as ivory as the bone it covers. Chill of gold and jewels burns as hairy knuckles swipe. Leopold whispers against the crook of my neck.

"You were just a girl when I married you and now-"

Before he crosses that final boundary of cloth.

_Before the raised axe can fall on my misfortune._

It comes to me. Power. Magic. The windup of resentment. Every pore of hate and anger pulls me out. At once, I take back myself, my control, and my body.

An open palm of red flame blasts the letch. The wizened torso is thrown back in stunned helplessness. The force of impact undoubtedly blackened his consciousness. His body sprawls away from me and as my skirt drops back down; Leopold hits the courtyard ground.


End file.
